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The Gathering
On the fringe of society a movement has begun, Watcher One, the unknown founder of The Watchers has started gathering those who wish to help civilised society, defending it from the encroaching darkness that has plagued the galaxy for these last few months, if not longer. Watcher One arranges a meeting between one of his watchmen and a possible new recruit. Sparefish Bar Rima Sirsalis: Luna - Luna - ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Compared to the standard set by the majority of buildings that can be found upon the upper half of Sirsalis City, the Sparefish isn't very nice. It is however passable as a decent enough location to hang around in, so long as you don't mind the occasional raid on the area by the Guardian Fleet, or the frequent gunfights and brawls that are sometimes started by drugged-up fanatics and brawly pirates. However, patronage aside, the establishment itself is somewhat more serene. An ancient Jukebox sets the tone, blasting out a variety of music which seems to fit the Sparefish well. While the Jukebox sets the mood, the long silver steel bar that rests to the very back of the bar sets the image. Silver is the order of the day, remaining a design style that seems to flow from the bar and sweep over every other aspect of the Sparefish itself, contrasting with the cobalt tones that make up the other dominant colour. Steel chairs shine of silver, set against sapphire tables with silver trimmings, remain neatly placed at various positions around the place, flowing neatly with the cobalt tones of the grated steel floor underfoot, and the darker midnight blue of the metallic walls. Private rooms can be found via a small doorway near to the bar area, providing an area for illicit trade, or for more 'private' encounters to take place. Scantily clad females from various races act as waitresses, while a whole host of exotic drinks stand guard behind the bar. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: A figure is sitting in a corner of the bar, cloaked and with a hood pulled up, he doesn't do anything but watch the young man, he leans forward in his chair, but the shadow still conceals his face. He raises his hand in greeting to the human. A young man enters somewhat uneasily. The youth keeps a firm grip on the shoulder straps of his purple backpack. He spies the wave and heads over that way since its the only individual who actually made a greeting movement when he entered. His manerisms make it clear that he doesn't make a habit of frequenting such establishments... at least not on his own. As such he takes the shortest most direct route he can while also avoiding as many othe patrons as possible. Once he reaches the table he doesnt sit down right away, instead one hand releases the shoulder strap of the backpack and he nervously chews a fingernail.. "Umm.. Watcher One?" he eventually manages to murmer around the finger. The figure shakes his head, the voice is deep and low, obviously disguised, "No, simply a Watchman. Watcher One sent me to meet you." He adds, "Sit." It's not a request. "Err.. right.. umm.." he murmers while still chewing fingernails. He takes a seat, looking around nervously and slides the backpack from his back pulling it into his lap where he keeps a firm hold on it, all but hugging it to his chest. "'ow'd yeh know it was me yeh were meetin'?" You can hear a smile it's said, you hear one now, "I heard your name." The boy's eyes narrow behind his fringe, "'eard my name... righ'.." he doesn't sound convinced, "No reason I c'n think o' t' be hearin' my name." The figure says nothing for a while, he hands the younger man a PDA. "I need a system that no-one can break into, a system that only works amongst the Watchers, a closed system. Think you can handle that?" The voice isn't sarcastic, simply questioning. The human wriggles his free hand up into his shirt sleeve before he takes hold of the pda, managing to continue holding the backpack to his chest and still chew fingernails, "Maybe..." He says studying the PDA in his hand for a moment before putting it back on the table. He then unzips a pouch on his backpac and takes out his own pda, which while similar to the one on the table in basic outward appearance has clearly had some kind of non-standard module retrofitted by way of the standard expansion port. The figure leans back again, "You'll have to either refit them all individually or work out some kind of trip signal that can send the system to the PDA's of those we initiate." The young man stops chewing fingernails and instead chews at his bottom lip while he fiddles with the pda after first pressing his thumb to the display - obviously in liu of a password. "Th' pda net ain' the most secure way to pass info." he murmurs, "wha kind o' encryption protocols you runnin'?" Shaking his head the watchman says, "We're just gathering, you're amongst our first possible candidates. That's one of the reasons Watcher One is interested in you, before we can gather information we need to secure our own network, we're open to ideas. *If* you turn out to be a possible member." The Watchman stresses the *if*. The young man shrugs, seeming a little more confident now that the subject is data security, "All comes down t' how easy yeh want it t' be t' use... I mean, no' many folks can enter a sequential, parrallel 14 character access code by themselves." "Now," he keeps right on talking, "probably the most easy way to share info is to encrypt it, store it on a chip or crystal or something then pass those. We keep the decryption key. As to the details of the key..." he looks around, "I ain' discussin' my ideas in public. Never know who's listenin' no good is someone nicks my ideas." The shadowed figure leans forward, "Sounds like you have some interesting suggestions we should consider. And trust me, in public is the best place to discuss this. The Fleeters are relaxed here, but not overly so, if I took you to a safehouse they'd hear about it within hours, do you want to walk with me?" It's phrased as a question, but the watchman stands. The younger man stuffs his pda into the backpack. It's apparent by the way he handles it that the backpack possibly contains more than just the pda. Something not in the backpack beeps a watch allarm perhaps and Tres pauses, canting his head to one side as if listening for a few minutes. Finally he stands, "Sure, ok." When the hooded figure stands he towers overf the young man, much taller and heavier built he seems to glide as he heads for the door. The young man slides the backpack on as he follows the watchman, looking up through his fringe occasionally so he at least looks to be paying attention should the conversation continue while they walk. Sirsalis City: Eastern District Rima Sirsalis: Luna - Luna - ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Imported arctic-trees form a natural vista against the otherwise artificial landscape of the vast and sprawling Northern District of Rima Sirsalis, overshadowed and flanked by natural cavern as it stands as a colossal matrix of platforms built high above the surface, held up by the columns of surface-to-canopy buildings that form the basis of the metropolis. An immeasurable network of catwalks, overpasses, roads, bridges, and arches, allows the people and vehicles of the city to actuate around it, linking from area to area against the backdrop of the arctic neo-Luna environment. The Eastern District of Sirsalis City plays host to the dominatingly imperialistic image of the vast Guardian Fleet Tribune. More a military base than a government facility, this enduring and far-reaching building of obsidian presents an intimidating presence indeed; a feeling consummated by the Eagle Arch - a monumental archway that shadows the main entrance to the concourse of the facility, complete with a liberty eagle ominously perched upon its apex. The notorious Sparefish Bar can also be found nearby, existing as a twenty-four hour nightclub of underworld relations, dark inhibitions, and desperado-like appeal. A perfect underworld attraction, and one often ignored by the Guardian Fleet. The main centrally-running artery of the city that is the Selene Highway runs westward from the Eastern District to link back to the Central Plaza, while continuing beyond the city to the east to join with the subterranean Cybele Tunnel, linking up with the cities of Fontana and Zupus to the east. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: The smaller human follows the hooded figure out of the bar. Walking beside the young man, the taller figure asks, "You have been paying attention to the news?" The other people in this district are used to the denizens of the Sparefish, a few dirty looks from the Guardian Fleet Officers are ignored by the watchman. The smaller man taps his left temple then pulls up one sleeve revealing the combination watch/comlink/pda he's wearing a fine cable connected to it vanishes further up his sleeve, "Any bit of news in particular?" he comments with a slight grin. Still gliding, without turning his head the figure says, "The big picture. President Cottington is dead, Sanctuary is gone, the problems here on Luna, Neidermeyer's manipulation of the press, the Nall invasion, the kidnapping of the young lady by Volari, I can go on if you wish." "The replacement of key Sivadians with Specialist clones, the formation of treaty organisations that don't allow certain planets or systems to join... That kind of thing?" At times the smaller man has to hurry to keep up with the taller man's stride but he seems to manage well enough. He shrugs, "The people 'in charge' are trying to get away with as much as possible... just like always." A humourless chuckle is heard from within the cloak, "If only it was that simple." The other people in the street seem to make way for the cloaked man, "What if I told you Watcher One had learned there is one figure manipulating events, you think it's co-incidence that all these events have happened so quickly one after the other?" The younger man shrugs, rather casually considering the lack of humour in the chuckle, "It wouldn' surprise me." The hooded figure stops walking, turning to face the smaller, younger man, "Do you think there's a way to stop these manipulations?" "Depends how good tha' person is a' wha' they're doing... I guess. Like they say in the movies and stuff though, 'If it's jus' the one person..." Tres shrugs and leaves that line of thought unfinished. "Course... anyone who's ever played a computer game knows the Main 'Boss' is the toughest. Not that reality is anythin' like computer games." Another humourless chuckle escapes the cloak, "This isn't the movies, but one man can help, lots of people working together, people who specialise in gathering information, discovering what the governments, businesses and citizens plan to do before they do it. If enough information is gathered, a group like this could work out what was happening and help throw a spanner in the works. Watcher One realises that working alone is difficult and fruitless. It is for this that he's assembling us. Do you wish to help us? Think carefully, this could be the biggest decision of your life." The intelligent looking youngster scratches the back of his head, rumpling his mopish hair, and chews at his bottom lip for a moment, "I thought I already was." His tone is completely innocent, but there's just a hint of a grin in those oddly shaded blue eyes that remain hidden by the pruple fringe. The taller man nods, "Good, we have need of your talents, but understand this, if you betray us, Watcher One will see to it that your life is short and painful. I hope it never comes to that, and I don't doubt your sincerity, but it needs to be said." The watchman starts to head towards Central Plaza, turning he says, "We'll be in contact." Gathering, The